


The Price of War

by craple



Category: G. I. Joe (Marvel Comics), G. I. Joe - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Canonical Character Death, Crush at First Sight, M/M, Pining, Pre-Slash, Vietnam War, i have so many feelings about these two i can't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:18:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craple/pseuds/craple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been 1750 hours since they landed on solid ground. Storm Shadow is flawless. Stalker is pissed. Snake Eyes might be a little bit smitten. This is not as lovely as it sounds. During Vietnam War // COMICVERSE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price of War

**Author's Note:**

> so this might be a little bit out of character for you because it's taken during the vietnam war when they first met and snake eyes' family haven't been accidentally slaughtered by our crime overlord who is the sanest mad genius of all time and actually killed everyone's families for fun a.k.a _cobra_ and way before g.i. joe. so. yes. i actually think that snake eyes was a fluffy ball of cutesy before shit happened.

“Is that your sister?” a man asks, a deep-baritone that has a strangely melodic lilt to it, velvet-smooth as it goes through his ears.

Snake-Eyes – the name he is given for this task, replacing the one he’s had before; the name of a polite loving man from a small family of four, instead of a hard-trained soldier who has seen too many; has had too many blood on his hands – looks up.

The questioner is clad in white, the very opposite of the uniform he wears. His eyes are dark brown and intense, focussing on his face and watching his movement with a strange sort of curiosity that reminds him too much of the first man he’s had before joining the army.

Black hair as dark as ink, thin lips stretching into a small relaxed smile that makes Snake Eyes relaxing in return, almost automatic, his mind blanks.

It is a very embarrassing moment, even for him. Snake-Eyes stutters a reply, wills his flush to go away, balancing the riffle on his lap this way and that. He starts his own documentary of his sister under the man’s scrutiny, her favourite books and the last opera they went to, how she is his good luck charm.

He doesn’t expect the man to listen, taking in his every word, his smile widening in amusement by every passing second. The very embarrassing self-documentary ends with a quiet question of his own. “She’s lovely, isn’t she?”

And the man smiles, places his hand on the side of Snake-Eyes’ neck. “As lovely as her brother,” he says, before leaving with another smile.

The touch burns.

* * *

Stalker takes one look at him – then double-takes. Not in a good way.

“Are you _kidding_ me?” hisses Stalker, looking wildly between him and the man clad in white. “ _Storm Shadow_ , of all people?”

Snake-Eyes doesn’t meet his eyes. “He has a very nice smile,” he says, weakly.

Stalker groans aloud.

* * *

“How did you know anyway?” is the first thing Snake-Eyes ask, because Storm Shadow – a much fitting name, better than his own code name certainly – is slashing someone’s throat somewhere. Or, you know, more than one throats.

Stalker’s eyes-rolling is so spectacular he can feel it from where he is stripping an army off his weapons and ammunitions. Slipping another set of knives into his boots and likes the weight of it around his calves.

“You are so _obvious_ with your love-sick puppy blue eyes. I mean, how can you even _have_ them, those eyes are _not_ supposed to be that beautiful or real.”

“Are you saying my eyes are beautiful then?” he asks between laughter as he checks another gun to see the barrels empty.

“I just _did_ , you dimwit.” The scrap of Stalker’s boots against the soldier’s vest is sickening, and the man pulls back with a groan of disgust. “Fucking – _humans_ ,” he curses, and Snake-Eyes mumbles in agreement.

* * *

Storm Shadow moves with précised elegance; measured and calculated, yet effortless enough for Snake-Eyes to know that he’s been through this – not _war_ , or battlefield, in general, but _battles_ – a lot. It’s a bit hard to concentrate on your enemy when your own ally looks like he can take them down with a swift strike of his sword, and wants more of it even after he’s finished.

No one pegs Storm Shadow as a blood-thirsty type of person, though, so it’s probably his arousal talking. Snake-Eyes needs to revisit his psychiatrist and apologised profusely for lying through the psych test.

He also needs to get laid soon and think of ways to tell his sister about Storm Shadow without sound like a, quote and unquoted, ‘lovesick puppy’. Nice as she is, she will probably smile adorably at him, with her blue eyes sparkling but laughing like the prettiest evil inside.

Which is why, when another one of the soldiers he missed, with Stalker wreaking all kinds of havoc elsewhere, is sneaking up on Storm Shadow, Snake Eyes snatches the dagger out of his boots – and buries it hilt-deep into the soldier’s throat.

It’s the last one in their area, but Sake Eyes doesn’t lower his guard, in case there’s another sneak attack, although he highly doubts Stalker would let anyone get away.

Storm Shadow’s look of surprise, pleasantly so, is worth the gut-shredding feeling in his belly. Snake Eyes swallows it down and gives him a weak smile.

“Not so lovely anymore aren’t I,” he tries, and it sounds broken, coming from him. Storm Shadow’s smile is warm and genuine.

“Lovelier.”

* * *

Sometimes he thinks of his sister. He tries to remind himself of her smile, bright and shiny as the sun itself, the warmth of his mother’s laughter and his father’s fond hand ruffling his hair, even though he is a fairly competent adult and not the baseball-loving twelve year old he used to be.

He thinks of them particularly when he has to kill the soldiers begging to be spared, because they have families back home. Lovers and siblings and parents they are fighting for. Nothing gets easier, and the memories of his old home are blurred by the sight of blood and rotten flesh.

Then, there are nights when he thinks of Storm Shadow. Not just Storm Shadow of course; he thinks of Stalker, and what the other man might say if he asks aloud, publicly, whether or not Storm Shadow is interested on getting coffee after this, or maybe even meet his sister.

He’s about to find out – unfortunately not in a good way.

* * *

_‘Storm Shadow, get the fuck back here, I repeat, this is a direct order from –‘_

* * *

“You’re going to be alright,” the voice whispers softly, like a croon, he can barely hear it. It’s not until he realises that, oh, his left ear is ringing, which means Vietnam dropped the bomb near his location, he’s fortunate enough to be alive.

Along the way he’s lost his hat, and the picture of his sister with it, but Snake Eyes can’t think past the fact that the man carrying him is Storm Shadow. For the white uniform, if the black-ink hair is not a clue enough. The sword he carries, moving and moving, opening the path until the helicopter is in sight.

“You’re going to be alright,” Storm Shadow tells him again, firmly this time, a hint of joy colouring his voice.

* * *

When he comes to, the smell of drugs and blood attack him. The sound of static loud and pointed, signalling the steady beat of his heart, and Stalker is cursing and trying to light the butt of his cigarette without being noticed by the nurses.

“Oh hey,” Stalker whispers, carefully. “You’re awake.” And as if the nurses heard him, the door bursts open and Stalker is trying (and failing) to hide the cigarettes and the lighter by shoving it under the bed.

Beside him, Snake Eyes realises, is Storm Shadow jerking back to consciousness. He does not look impressed by Stalker’s failed attempt.

Forty minutes later, after the nurses are satisfied fussing over him and asking him questions; Storm Shadow takes a seat on the other side of the bed whilst Stalker inspects every single pocket on his uniform for another pack of smoke.

“You should come with me to Japan,” Storm Shadow begins, quietly. “I saw you fight. You were a great fighter, and you can be better. My family would love to have you.”

He’s looking straight at Snake Eyes in the eye, the intensity of his dark brown eyes make him feel like it’s burning, and Snake Eyes thinks he might die of cardiac arrest or lungs-problem because he’s pretty sure his breath catches.

Stalker, the ignorant bastard he is, ruins the moment by groaning again. “Oh my god, this is happening isn’t it – it hasn’t even been a month, and you’re meeting the parents already?” the cigarette is forgotten as he leans against the bed, looking at them both fondly. “Next thing I know, there will be a wedding invitation from Holland, and I don’t even have to open it to know it’s from you.”

Snake Eye flushes, heart thundering from Stalker’s casual statement. Fidgets the end of his blanket instead of saying anything, seeing that his vocal cord is nearly broken from the gunfire-slash-bomb. Storm Shadow doesn’t seem to get it.

“What does it have to do with – _oh_.” And even then he smiles and looks delighted, a similar flush rising on his cheeks, but compare to Snake Eyes’ face, it’s a lovely beautiful shade on Storm Shadow, and all he wants is put his fingers there, see if it heats up a little more.

He thinks of his family, then. Of his sister who demanded him to bring her to the cinema, just the two of them, even though he knows it’s one of her attempts to get him laid. He thinks of his mother who made him promise to come back, because she knew he spilled the broccoli curry no one in the family likes on the dog’s bowl, thus the reason why King Shealfe got sick.

The offer sounds tempting enough to make him want to say yes immediately, but Snake Eyes recalls of his last conversation with his father, something about the Mets and the Yankees, and there is another war happening inside his head, and he misses his family so much his whole body _hurts_.

But there is Storm Shadow. Storm Shadow and his offer; the chance to get to know him better, and his _heart_ aches with it.

“Sorry,” he manages to say. “Can’t. Fam’ly.”

Storm Shadow smiles. “I understand.” And he truly sounds like he does.

(It’s enough to make him reconsider.)

* * *

A few days later, he calls Storm Shadow to pick him up at the airport.

...

...

“I’m really sorry, Snake Eyes,” Stalker says. He truly sounds like he means it.

Snake Eyes doesn’t speak. _Can’t_.

...

...

His family dies.

\--

 

**Author's Note:**

> AND THEN STORM SHADOW MADE EVERYTHING BETTER AND THEY LIVED TOGETHER AND ATE TOGETHER AND TRAINED TOGETHER AND HAD SEX TOGETHER BECAUSE IT'S HARD NOT TO SINCE IT'S _THEM_ OKAY AND THEN THEY'LL BE TOGETHER AND THEN NOT AND THEN SNAKE EYES WILL STOP SPEAKING AND EVERYONE WILL UNDERESTIMATE STORM SHADOW FOR THE SUPERVILLAIN HE IS NOT WHEN ALL HE EVER WANTED IS MAKE MOMMY (DADDY?) PROUD WHAT. *ugly tears*
> 
> four days until retaliation :))


End file.
